guns with bows. But one big charge, and all would be over."
The battle slowly traveled. It was getting directly opposite, as the Apaches gradually gave ground and the Spanish took ground. Scarcely anybody appeared to have been hurt yet; there were no dead on the sand and all the wounded stayed in their saddles. The column in the distance was making a larger dust, as if hastening to the rescue.
The Apaches no doubt knew this. Now on a sudden the noise quieted. The Apache chief had cantered forward from among his men, shaking his lance. He was a very heavy man, with a very long lance; upon his arm was a red shield. He rode a fine spotted horse.
"The chiefs will fight, maybe," quoth Letalesha. "That is the way to settle it."
The Apache chief spoke in a loud voice, holding his lance high; but the Spanish chief on the white horse waved him back and evidently said no.
"The Spanish chief is a coward," Skidi asserted. "He has a small heart."
"Why should he risk losing his scalp, when he is winning and he has enough men coming to burn the Apaches like dry grass?" argued the wise Old Knife.
The Apache chief sat a moment, waiting; then
